AND PACIFIC

COAST GUIDE.

 

INTERIOR VIEW OF MORMON TABERNACLE,

long marked this place; long before the
hardy Mormon passed down this wild
gorge; long before the great trans-conti-
nental railroad was even thought of. It
stood a lonely sentinal, when all around
was, desolation; when the lurking savage
and wild beast claimed supremacy, and
each in turn reposed in the shade of its
waving arms. How changed the scene!
The ceaseless bustle of an active, progres-
sive age, the hum of labor, the roar and
rush of the passing locomotive, has usurped
the old quiet, and henceforward the Lonz
TREE will be,not a guide tothe gloomy past,
but an index of the coming greatness of a
regenerated country.
ust below this tree, the cars cross a tres-

tle bridge to the left bank of the Weber,
thence down but a short distance, before
they cross over another trestle to the right-
hand side, and then, almost opposite the
bridge, on the side of the mountain to the
left, can be seen the

Dervin’s Sirp8, or serrated rocks. This
slide is composed of two ridges of granite
rock, reaching from the river nearly to the
summit of a sloping, grass-clad moun-
tain. They are from 50 to 200 feet high,
narrow slabs, standing on edge, as though
forced cut of the mountain side. The two
ridgesrun parallel with each other—about
10 feet apart, the space between being cov-
ered with grass, wild flowers and climbing
vines. (See illustration, page 45.)

Rushing swiftly along past

Weber Quarry—2n unimportant
side-track, 8.5 miles from Echo City, we
soon lose sight of these rocks and behold
others more grand, of different shapes, and
massive proportions. The mountains
seem to have been dovetailed together, and
then torn rudely asunder, leaving the
rough promontories and rugged chasms
as so many obstacles to bar our progress.
But engineering skill has triumphed over
all. Where the road could not be built
over or around these points, it is tunneled
under. Now we shoot across the river,
and dart through a tunnel 550 feet long,
cut in solid rock, with heavy cuts and fills
at either entrance. Just before entering
this tunnel, high up to the left, formerly
stood “ Finger Rock,” as seen in the illus-
tration (page 55), but which has been
broken away, so as not to be visible
now. The frowning cliffs bar our further
way, and again we cross the roaring tor-
rent and burrow under the point of an-
other rocky promontory. Here the road
stretches across a pretty little valley,
known as Round Valley.

Dashing along, with but a moment to
spare in which to note its beauties, we
enter the narrowing gorge again, where
the massive walls close in and crush out
the green meadows. Between. these lofty
walls, with barely room for the track be-
tween them and the foaming torrent at our